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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25434004">The Moments After</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist'>Xenobotanist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Julian Bashir, Bottoming from the Top, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Top Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:47:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25434004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All of his fantasies had ended with the culmination of their pleasure, the idea of such a circumstance actually coming to pass so beyond reality that he’d never even considered the moments after.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Moments After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Garak lay on his side, resting but not sleeping, knees crooked, right arm flung almost uncomfortably behind him. His hand rested on a thigh, his elbow tucked into the waist of the body--the lithe, pliant, supple body--pressed into his back. His left shoulder was starting to go numb, but he remained resolutely in that exact position, terrified that if he shifted one centimeter or removed his hand, the perfect creature sharing his bed would magically disappear. Or he’d wake up, freezing and alone, like every other night for how many years now.</p><p>Hardly daring to risk it, he squeezed every so lightly the flesh beneath his fingertips, brushing his thumb over the silky skin.</p><p>A bronze arm snaked around him, hugging his chest. “Mmmm. Ready to go again?” A nose nestled into his hair before a heated pair of lips met his neck at the base of his scalp. A river of fire ignited at the point of contact and wound down through his core, pooling much further south. The limbs entwined with his gave a delicious little wiggle, rubbing the doctor’s hips into Garak’s rear.</p><p>He paused, unsure of the next step. All of his fantasies had ended with the culmination of their pleasure, the idea of such a circumstance actually coming to pass so beyond reality that he’d never even considered the moments <em> after. </em></p><p>The human lifted on an elbow to peer anxiously into his face. “Elim?”</p><p>What had he been thinking, allowing the boy to use his first name? The sound of it was warm and intimate, summoning feelings that were appallingly sentimental and much too soon for serious consideration.</p><p>He fell back on comfortable snark to hide his discomfiture. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m rather worn out from our earlier exertions.” Which actually wasn’t that far from the truth. “I might need a little… persuading.”</p><p>He quite suddenly found himself flattened by an eager and insistent lover straddling his waist, propped up by hands splayed over his chest. Oh, by the old Hebitian gods, what did he ever do to deserve this?</p><p>The young man above him smiled cheekily. Maintaining eye contact, he twisted his hips a little to one side, then the other. “What method of persuasion would you like?”</p><p>Of course, he also derived immense satisfaction from wiping the smug expression from his companion’s face as often as possible.</p><p>Garak grabbed both bony wrists, yanking them upward to either side of his head and eliciting a startled squeak from his captor, who was now <em> captured, </em>stretched out flat on his stomach over a scaly gray chest.</p><p>But the face now directly in Garak’s space didn’t look the least bit indignant. Instead, the hazel eyes held a recalcitrant molten sheen that promised only the best things a toned body and keen mind could offer. “Elim, I do believe you’re blushing.”</p><p>Pushed beyond his limits, Garak growled and crashed his mouth into the amused smirk, prepared to wreak havoc on every inch of that infuriating and intoxicating body. But he realized too late that his own hands were being pinned by the very ones he’d stolen, ensnared by his own trap. The dexterous fingers worked their way between each of his, sliding sensually between the digits until they were completely and exquisitely entwined.</p><p>Garak shuddered.</p><p>Spy. Exile. Tailor.</p><p>Completely at the mercy of an eternal idealist and optimist wrapped in the body of some long-lost desert deity.</p><p>Was he irrevocably doomed or extraordinarily blessed?</p><p>Perhaps a little of both.</p><p>As he was ridden with wanton abandon, he caught just a little glimpse of vulnerability behind the pleasure, a matching sense of trepidation that this was only a one-time occurrence, that it would forever change the nature of their relationship.</p><p>Later, during the ridiculously-termed “cuddling,” the eyes staring into his were open just a little too wide, the forehead furrowed, when the quiet voice pleaded, “Must we keep this a secret?”</p><p>He’d murmured back about danger and suspicion and a dozen valid reasons for them not to be seen as anything other than occasional lunch companions, the other man’s acceptance reluctant and brooding.</p><p>But when asked if they could still continue <em> this, </em> whatever <em> this </em> was, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no.</p><p>So once again he was lying there resting but not sleeping, this time on his back, and with a tousled but terribly angelic head on his shoulder.</p><p>He allowed himself the briefest flicker of feeling, of bands tightening around his chest and barbs digging into his heart, of something soft and tender and wholly undeserved suffusing his being. Here, in the dark, unobserved by anyone else, he permitted just the tiniest whisper of… hope. He turned his head, laying a single kiss to the brow, now relaxed in sleep, completely undone by the contented sigh from his lover’s mouth.</p><p>Garak closed his eyes, willing the moisture that had gathered in the corners to be reabsorbed rather than escape to leave evidence of his momentary weakness.</p><p>“Julian,” he whispered.</p>
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